


A Little Bit Longer and I'll Be Fine

by cumberhardhiddlesbitch



Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [21]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Caretaking, F/M, Friendship, Hospitalization, M/M, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberhardhiddlesbitch/pseuds/cumberhardhiddlesbitch
Summary: Ben falls ill with pneumonia while filming Sherlock.  Tom is away and asks Shannon to check on him while he’s in hospital.
Relationships: Benedict Cumberbatch/Tom Hardy, Tom Hardy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/715134
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	A Little Bit Longer and I'll Be Fine

When Shannon walked into the room the shade was open, thin winter sunlight pouring in, making the white walls and floor look almost cheerful instead of the drab grey they'd seemed on her previous visits. Ben was sitting on the side of the bed, his feet looking huge in a pair of shearling house slippers.

"You're looking well," she said, though in fact it was something of a shock to see him wrapped up in an oversize hoodie over his pajama pants. The pajama pants were what she'd come to expect from him, story-book old man blue striped cotton trousers, but in the excess soft fabric of the BBC Wales hoodie he looked small, and young, whereas the pukka overtones to the pajamas had always made him look older.

"I'm feeling alright," he said cautiously. The IV was gone from his arm, no more oxygen sensor hanging at his side. "My mother is coming to get me this afternoon."

"Will you be going to her house?" 

Ben nodded. "I've got the rest of the week off. Work again on Monday."

It was Thursday already. Hardly a long weekend away from the hospital before he was expected to work again, and she said as much.

"It's all interiors."

"In Cardiff, though?" She leaned on the edge of the chair but didn't sit down.

"Yes."

She nodded. "Tom will be back on Tuesday. I suspect he'll try to go up there and check on you."

“What did you tell him?"

“I just said you weren’t in peril.”

Ben laughed, but it turned into a cough quickly. “Definitely the health status version of damning with faint praise.”

She smiled ruefully at him. “At the time it almost felt like a stretch to say you weren’t. Who’s the last person our age you knew to be in hospital for pneumonia?”

“Point taken. Though I do feel like I’m about eighty years old right now.” He rolled his shoulders back, sitting up straight. “There’s something I was hoping you’d help me with, but I feel like a right idiot asking.”

"What is it?" She was looking down at him, as he was just shorter than her when she was standing up. Even with how much his face usually gave away, she found she had no idea of what he was about to ask.

"Listen, this is embarrassing as hell, and I’ve got other options, so if you have to say no, I understand."

"You're starting to scare me now." She sat down, so she could face him, at least.

"I want to wash my hair, before I go to my parents' house."

"And you need me to help you?" The mildness of the request was almost shocking.

"To pretty much do it for me," he corrected. He seemed to shrink inside the enormous hoodie. "I can't put my arms over my head for very long, it's exhausting. I know one of the nurses could help me but I told them I’d be fine. I can just tell them I was mistaken."

"No, it’s alright." She'd agreed before she'd even thought about it, practically able to feel his discomfort, and looked at the sink by the door. "I don't think that sink is big enough though." 

"The shower is right there," he said, pointing to the door that she'd assumed was a closet. 

She got up and opened it. The room was tiled, a good eight feet to a side with a shower on one wall and a water closet behind a partition on the other side. There was a sturdy plastic chair by the shower as well, and the hose on the shower head was longer than usual, to accommodate a patient who couldn't move at all, she supposed. The only sink was behind the wall with the toilet, and not of use for washing hair at all.

"That's a pretty lush set up," she said as she walked back to him.

"Private room," he said, shrugging.

“It's good, I just didn't expect that much," she waved her hand at it. "That much room, I suppose." She thought about the logistics of it. "If you can take a turn holding the shower, just in your hands, I can manage washing your hair while you sit."

He nodded. "I've got a pair of shorts on under this."

"That should do." She was surprised for a moment when he started taking off his hoodie, the realization that she was going to see far more of his body than she'd expected when she first agreed to wash his hair hitting her. He left the hoodie lying on the bed inside out and she picked it up, turning it the right way around and folding it in half while he managed the buttons on the pajama top. His chuckle turned into a cough, then several, and he had to stop, one arm out of the shirt, the other folded up over his face as he muffled himself with his elbow.

"Haven't done that for a while," he remarked wryly as he set the shirt aside.

"Well, it's only to be expected," she said, surprised at how tired he looked after such simple movements. She held her arm out for him to hold on to as he stood up to take the pajama bottoms off. He'd forgotten his slippers, had to sit down again to kick them off and then stood to pull his trousers off. His long toes seemed to grip the tile floor as he got his bearings, letting go of her arm.

"Everything I need is on the window sill," he said. "Can you carry it in?"

"Yeah, you alright?" His gait was slow and deliberate, and she could imagine him falling to the floor all too well.

"I'm fine." 

She forced herself to turn to the window, gathering up the small pile of hospital issue bath towels and flannels, and his shampoo. The towels were thin and felt small; apparently a private room didn't mean better linens.

In the shower room he had made it to the chair. The only place to set anything down was the metal hamper by the door, and she reluctantly set the towels on it.

"This is all a bit awkward," she said as she had to balance the towels on the hamper's slightly curved top, the shampoo bottles still held in her hand.

"Shannon, I'm so sorry, really," he began.

"No, I meant the room, as in, where to set anything." She set the shampoo on the ground next to him as she took stock of the room, taking her boots and socks off as she realized that there was no way that her feet weren't going to get wet. "The rest of this is actually not all that odd."

Ben's lopsided smile looked even stranger upside down as she peered up at him, leaning over to roll up the hems of her jeans.

"Right then." She set her boots and socks just outside the door, pulled off her jumper and outer shirt, leaving herself with the tank top she'd put on as a first layer that morning, trying to reason that it wasn't really underwear, only out of season. She hung her things on the hook on the door and turned around. "I think you're fine where you are."

Shannon turned the shower on and held it so the spray was on her wrist as she adjusted the temperature. Even with it pointed towards the floor it was splashing back on her legs and she thought about how freezing it was going to be when she finally left the hospital. When it felt about right she kept her wrist in it to make sure it wasn't going to get hotter.

"Hold your hand out," she said. Ben held his hand out but the angle was strange. She picked up his arm to bring it close enough. "How is that?"

"That's perfect." He tilted his head back and she stood just off to one side as she rinsed his hair, trying to keep her clothes dry. She cupped one hand around his face but the water still streamed over his closed eyes as she soaked his fringe, brushing the curls back with each pass of the spray until they were slicked back. With his hair smooth against his scalp he looked surprisingly thin, even sunken, and it was only made worse when he shivered violently.

"Are you too cold?"

"I think it's just the water dripping down my back," he said, though his voice sounded reedy too. "Can you let the warm water spray on my back for a moment?"

"Sure." She held the showerhead close to him, angled down so the splashback wasn't as bad, and ran the spray over his back in slow arcs. He groaned out loud when she reached the middle of his back, the sound echoing in the tiled room. She jumped, barely holding on to the showerhead as she leaned forward. "Ben?"

"That feels so good," he said, his eyes opening slowly as he looked at her.

"You scared me."

"Sorry. It just feels like you're warming up my lungs." His shoulders twitched. "Would you do it again?"

"Sure." She could well imagine what he meant. She stood behind him so she had more control, trying to cover his back evenly. He was coated with a thin layer of water by the time she was done, and she reached out with the side of her hand, pressing firmly against his skin, leaving a nearly dry path for the water to follow.

This time when he groaned the sound was muffled, as if he was trying to stop himself.

"If the sound carries from this room people will think I'm either murdering you or being lascivious with you."

He looked at her over his shoulder, grinning. "Which would you prefer them to think?"

She pushed on his shoulder, gently, until he turned around. "Neither." She held the spray on his back though, rubbing her hand over his skin, able to imagine all too well the ache it was soothing. "Are you ready to get back to washing your hair?"

"Yes." He sat up straight and tilted his head back, eyes closed. As soon as she took her hand off his back he swayed, his eyes snapping open as he grabbed at the side of the seat.

"Here, lean back on my arm." She set her forearm against the back of his shoulders, holding him steady as he leaned back. It meant she couldn't angle herself away from him, now, the water falling on her feet as she saturated his hair.

"Take this," she said, handing the showerhead to him. He fumbled it for a moment and she stifled her sigh as he sprayed her right in the middle of her chest. He held the water spraying straight at his own sternum as she worked the shampoo into a lather in her hands. "Lean back again, so I don't get this in your eyes."

Even wet his hair felt almost sticky, though it was easy enough to work the shampoo in. She kept using her fingertips to scrape the suds off his forehead, rubbing firmly at his scalp as she worked her way back. When she rubbed her hands against the back of his neck he groaned again.

"You're not exactly subtle," she said as she kneaded at the tight muscles at the base of his skull.

"It helps that you're surprisingly accommodating."

She froze, hands still on his head. "Surprisingly?"

"It wasn't all that long ago that I could barely be civil to you," he said.

She carded her fingers through his hair one last time and reached for the showerhead over his shoulder.

"To be fair, it wasn't all that long ago that I could barely be civil to you, either."

"And yet, here you are." He tilted his head back when she pressed against his forehead, and she kept her hand there, shielding his eyes as she worked her way back. His neck trembled and she slipped her arm behind his head, holding him up as she rinsed the back of his hair.

"I think we should wash it again," she said as she handed the showerhead back to him. He cuddled up to it again, and she glanced over his shoulder. "Those pants cannot feel good."

"I'm alright."

She stepped out of the ever present misting spray and pulled a towel out of the stack of linens. "Here, you can just drape yourself with this if you want."

He smirked at her. "That's very generous."

She rolled her eyes. "I could have offered you the flannel," she pointed out. 

"No, this would be more comfortable, thank you." He paused. "Though, I will need to hold on to you." He hung his head, whether from fatigue or embarrassment she couldn't quite tell. "I did not think this through."

"Don't worry, I've already seen your arse, after all," she said, worried, a second after she'd said it, that it would be the wrong thing.

He laughed quickly, coughing before he was able to speak. "Seriously? When?"

"On telly. To the Ends of the Earth."

"Oh, that." He coughed into his elbow. "That was in my salad days."

"Come on, Cleopatra." She shook the towel at him. "Do you want to drape yourself demurely, or do you want to sit there in soggy pants?"

Ben raised his eyebrows slowly at her as he reached out for the towel.

"Don't give me that look. I can read." She took the shower from him, trying in vain to keep her jeans from getting further soaked. "Come on, up." She held her crooked arm out to him and turned her head to look at the wall as he worked his pants off.

He was fairly steady, kicking his soaked pants under the chair as he sat down.

"You're getting those later," she said, seeing the motion out of the corner of her eye.

"Of course." He sat back down and settled the towel around his waist. "Alright."

She set her arm at the back of his neck and he leaned back, his head heavy. He was clumsy handing her the shower and she wound up soaking her shoulder, flinching but silent as he truly couldn't help it. When his hair was soaked she urged him to sit up and returned the showerhead to the wall, glancing at him as she poured the shampoo into her palm. 

"Are you still awake?"

He nodded. "I'm finding this process unreasonably tiring."

She smiled to herself as she stood behind him, carefully tilting his head back again. It was just like Ben to refer to the fatigue of his illness as being unreasonable.

She stepped around him to retrieve the showerhead, wondering how he was supposed to manage going back to work in hardly any time at all. "Are you going to make it on Monday?"

His shoulders tensed up despite the warm water on his back. "I'll be fine." His voice, though thin, managed to sound cold and she scowled at the tiles, aware that she'd said the wrong thing. "I mean, I have to be fine." She reached out to sluice some of the water out of the hair at the nape of his neck and found herself squeezing the back of his neck.

"I think you'll do alright. Just tell them if you're still recovering, ok?"

He leaned his head on her hand, just a bit. "Yeah. Will do." 

She reached over him to set the shower back on its holder, resisting the sudden urge to kiss the top of his head. Ben could be prickly, challenging, and sometimes irritating, and now the sudden onslaught of warm protective feelings were, in their own way, annoying.

"What do you need right now?" she asked.

Ben sighed deeply and looked around, and for a moment she was afraid that she'd left the question too open-ended.

"Do you need the conditioner?"

"Yes. Just hand it to me, please." 

She reached over to the laundry hamper and retrieved it, grateful that this time, at least, she wasn't getting sprayed again. The room was humid and while she was still breathing easily enough she could imagine how refreshing the cooler air of the hospital itself was going to be. Ben held the bottle out silently after he'd dispensed what he wanted, and she rolled her eyes, grateful that he couldn't see her. The more charitable side of her mind considered that he was tired, perhaps simply too tired to give her more directions. When she looked at him he had lowered his head, leaning forward rather than lifting his arms over his head.

"Do you need me to rinse it out?" she asked.

"Yes, please." He tilted his head back, the circles under his eyes suddenly clear in the fluorescent light. 

"Do you want a flannel?" she asked as she set the shower back on the wall.

"Yes." 

She handed it to him over his shoulder, her face averted as much as she could manage, though by the end of it she realized she was going to have seen so much of him it hardly mattered.

"Could I have some shampoo please?"

She squeezed some on to his outstretched hand, lingering with her back to him while he washed.

"I feel like the smell of that room is stuck to me," he said.

"If it's any consolation, your room doesn't smell of anything," she said.

"I reek of sickness." Out of the corner of her eye she could see him trying to wash his own back.

"Here." She took the flannel from him, scrubbed it firmly over his back as he hunched forward, stretching his spine. She stopped short of the pale curve of his lower back, handing the cloth back to him, sure that he could reach that, anyway. She turned back around and heard a sudden soggy splashing sound, realized he'd pushed the towel off his lap. She flinched, glad that he couldn't see her.

"Are you doing this for Tom?" From the sound of the water hitting the floor in sheets she surmised that he was holding his leg out into the stream, and for a moment she was worried that he'd topple off the bench, but not worried enough to turn around and confront the sight of him naked.

"No," she said, slowly, not sure if she should be insulted or not. "I think it's pretty obvious I'm doing this for you."

"He'll be pleased, though, that you were here when he couldn't be."

"I imagine so." She wrung out the corner of her tank, giving it up as a bad job. When she thought about telling Tom she imagined telling him, _I got fucking soaked,_ then realized that she wasn't going to share that at all. As cold as she was going to be later, it wasn't really about her own suffering. Tom wouldn't need to know. _I got freaking soaked while giving Benedict Cumberbatch a shower_ would be something that she might share with a friend who was not more concerned with Ben's recovery than her own comfort, in that moment... but she wouldn't, because the only people she'd be able to tell would derive too much pleasure from the lurid idea of it, outside of what it really was. 

"You're definitely the one getting cleaned up, though," she said.

"True." He laughed softly, or it might have been a cough. "Will you hand me the shower again? I'm nearly done, truly."

"Sure." She handed it to him with her back turned, arm outstretched.

"There must be some sort of law of transverse properties that applies here."

"How?" She flexed her toes against the tiles, wondering why she didn't feel more grossed out, reasoned that the shower room had been cleaned with hospital grade bleach prior to Ben being there, and he was the only other person being touched by the water.

"I mean, you've been with Tom, Tom's seen my pale arse enough times," he trailed off. "I'm done, thanks."

She reached back for the shower, took it at an awkward angle and wound up spraying herself in the face as it twisted on its little hose. "Great," she said as she hung it up, turning the tap off, finally. She shook her head and ran her hand over her face. "I'm not getting my kit off, I don't care how many times you spray me with that thing."

He laughed himself into a coughing fit as she gathered up the towels off the top of the hamper. She draped one of them over his shoulders as he slowed down in his coughing, one arm crossed over his chest.

"Please tell me you can walk out of here," she said as she draped one of the towels around his shoulders.

"I can." He wrapped another towel around his waist. It fit, barely, and he held another to his chest as he stood up.

"Careful." 

"I just need a moment." He held still, holding on to her arm so tight it hurt, then loosened his grip as he moved forward.

"I'll put a towel on your head when you sit back down," she said as they got to the door. "Don't want you to get chilled."

"I've got a hat," he said as she opened the door. They couldn't fit through side by side so she stepped out first and turned around, reaching back so he could hold on to her arm as he stepped over the low threshold. When she turned back around she started at the sight of a woman sitting in the chair next to the bed.

"Hello," Shannon said, trying to place her. She looked familiar, but she wasn't sure why until Ben spoke.

"Hello Mum."

Ben's Mum, Wanda, she remembered, looked surprised as she looked at Shannon, and Shannon had a sudden clear vision of how she had to look through someone else's eyes-- bare feet, rolled jeans, soaked tank, hair askew and frizzed with humidity.

"Hello Ben." She was still wearing her coat, and some of Ben's things that had been scattered on the bedside stand were neatly loaded into a canvas bag by her side. "Your nurse told me that you're free to leave whenever you're ready."

"Mum, this is Shannon." He tried to shift his hand to her shoulder, then wound up having to take his hand back entirely to grasp the side of the towel that was precariously wrapped around his waist.

"Shannon, hi." Wanda's smile was warm, but she looked puzzled. She stood up as Ben held on to Shannon's arm once again. "I'll just be in the corridor."

"We'll just be a minute," she said.

"Take your time dear."

Shannon focused on getting Ben to sit down on the edge of the bed as Wanda let herself out. As soon as the door clicked shut Shannon took the towel from his chest and threw it over his head, toweling his hair quickly.

"Your mother seemed to know me," Shannon said, drying behind his ears.

"I'm not a beagle," Ben protested from under the towel. She ignored his protests and dried the back of his neck, then draped the towel around his shoulders to catch the drips.

"Why did your mother know my name?" She picked up the folded hoodie from the head of the bed and handed it to him, taking the towel from him as he pulled it on over his head. "More to the point, why did she see fit to leave me in here with you?"

"Because you'd already been in the shower with me?" His face, when he emerged, was pale, entirely devoid of any sarcastic expression, so she let it lie.

"Alright. But you told her about me?" She turned around as he reached for the pants that had been folded under the hoodie. As she didn't remember him setting out clothes for himself she had to surmise that his mother had done it.

"I did. She knows that you're Tom's girlfriend." The bed creaked as he sat down hard, and she kept her back turned as he pulled on the track bottoms.

"And does she know that you're Tom's boyfriend?" She felt her involuntary smirk, the words _boyfriend_ and _girlfriend_ too juvenile by far for her liking.

"She does."

Shannon waited a few more breaths before she turned around, found him with the towels discarded to one side as he pulled his socks on. She pulled his trainers out from under the bed and loosened the laces so he could slip his feet in.

"So you told her about me, when?"

Ben kept his attention on his laces as he crossed first one foot then the other over his knee to tie them. "A couple of days after you and Tom met."

She sighed as she went to the shower room to retrieve her own socks and boots, acutely aware, suddenly, of how cold her own feet were.

"I can only assume that her opinion of me is strained at best." She sat in the chair as she pulled her socks and boots on, unrolling the damp cuffs of her jeans. The water had left a tie-dyed pattern that would freeze in an interesting way, in any case. Her jumper and shirt covered her damp tank well enough, and with her coat on she'd be uncomfortable, but not actually in danger of frostbite.

"She's smarter than that," Ben said quietly, tacitly reminding her that Wanda was standing just outside the door. "From the first she reminded me not to blame you for any of the problems Tom and I might have had communicating."

She held Ben's coat out to him, holding it up as he put his arms in. "I don’t suppose you could tell her, soon, that we’re on friendly terms and all?”

"I’d think that’s pretty obvious," he said.

“I just don’t like imagining that she thinks badly of me.” 

“She doesn’t. But yes, I’ll tell her.”

She adjusted his collar, smoothing the fabric down over his shoulders and evening out the hoodie’s drawstring. "Thanks. Did you leave anything else behind?" She looked in the shallow drawer in the table and peeked behind the head of the bed.

"There's nothing. My mum has it." He took her arm. "Let's go."

Wanda was standing a few feet down the hall, and turned towards them when they came out. 

"The car is in the ramp. I'll bring it round to the front and meet you there."

"Thank you," Ben said as they walked towards the lifts. Wanda needed to go down a different corridor to get to the lift for the parking ramp, but they walked together for a short while, Shannon gritting her teeth with the uncertainty of whether or not she was supposed to speak.

"There's a window by the revolving door," Wanda said. "Stay inside if I'm not already there, alright dear?"

"Yes Mum."

"See you in a moment." Wanda touched Shannon's arm briefly before she walked away.

"Ok." Shannon hurried Ben into a lift then rested her forehead against his upper arm, grateful that they were alone.

"That could not have been more awkward," she said quietly.

"Oh, it could have." Ben sounded almost amused.

"I'm glad you're having fun."

Ben coughed into his elbow. "I've been in hospital for the better part of a week, are you really going to begrudge me an innocent bit of fun?"

"Fine." She stood up straight when they got to the lobby. The window that Wanda had mentioned was easy to find, and she stood next to Ben as they waited for the car.

"What does your mother drive?" she asked.

"A black sedan." He was still holding on to her arm.

"Well, that narrows the field a bit." She tried to peer into the windows of the cars that approached. Thankfully Wanda was only about the third person to drive up to the patient pick-up area. Shannon walked Ben out to the kerb, already thinking of her trip home on the tube.

Shannon stood by the passenger door as Ben got himself settled. "All set?"

"Thank you Shannon. I'll see you soon, I'm sure."

"Right." She looked up at his mother. "It was nice meeting you." She felt her voice stumble at the end, not sure whether to call her Wanda or Ms. Ventham.

"Where are you going, Shannon?" she asked.

"Just home."

"Get in, I'll give you a lift."

"It's alright, it's only a quick trip on the tube."

"Nonsense, you're practically soaked to the bone, Ben's fault, I'm certain. You'll catch cold at the least." Wanda was possessed the very kind of stern yet kind tone that Shannon felt helpless before.

"Alright. Thank you." She let herself into the back seat, buckling up as Wanda drove away.

"Now, where am I taking you?" she asked.

"Islington," she said, acutely aware of Ben turning his head to look at her. "It's actually Tom's flat. I'm just staying there while he's away."

Ben settled back in his seat as Shannon described the directions to Wanda. When they were on their way he turned towards her again.

"Do you still have your flat in Dulwich?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her hands into the sleeves. "It's in Peckham, and yes, I do. My roommates have a big project on, and it's just less bother if I clear out for the time being, at least as long as Tom is away."

"It's always nice to know that your home is being looked after," Wanda said.

"It is," Ben said, his voice too mild to discern his tone.

Shannon looked out the window, keeping her expression carefully neutral, aware that at any moment either of the others might catch sight of her reflection.

Ben and his mother talked softly, and she relaxed in the comfortable seat, warmed to drowsiness. When Wanda had a question about which way to go Ben answered her, knowing the way better than she did, naturally. She looked down at a sudden movement between Ben's seat and the door, realized he was reaching back to her, palm upturned.

She touched his hand, questioning, and he wrapped his fingers around hers, thumb rubbing against her knuckles. It was a bit strange to sit leaning forward, but he wasn't letting go, only squeezing her tighter as Wanda parked in front of Tom's house.

"Thanks very much," she said, squeezing Ben's hand the best she could at that odd angle.

"You're very welcome, Shannon. I hope we see you again."

"Thanks, Shannon." Ben let go of her hand.

"I'll see you both later. Thanks for the lift." She ran up to the front door and unlocked it, but couldn't help looking back when she realized the car was still there. Ben was leaning forward, gave her a little wave as they drove away.


End file.
